A/N: The story is purely fiction. Any similarity with historical occurrences, names, or places are accidental. No copyright or any form of offense ever intended. Standard xianxia/xuanhuan/cultivation terms/words are used in the story.
Cover is made by MidnightFlowerBandit
Wattpad version is edited by @book_lover4670
Future edited chapters/revisions may only be available on Insane Munchies' website (imnovels.com)
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Chapter 1 – The Forgotten
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She could still see silhouettes of grand mountains, jagged and broken by some passing fog's illusion.
Perhaps, it was not the fog. Perhaps, it was her gradually blurring sight.
"Master, please don't go... ."
His voice was the only thing whatever was remaining of her existence was hanging on to.
'Master.'
Such was what she had been called as, for more than the past two decades.
What was her name, before that? Before she laid her eyes on him again? What did he use to call her before hundreds of years separated them both?
She already forgot.
"Master... ."
His voice was laced with grief.
Ah, but why? Was he not the one who had liberated her just a few brief moments ago? Was he not the one who had ruthlessly torn her true essence away from her mortal body?
Almost exactly like what she had done to him, a long time ago... .
An act of selfishness, to ensure that one's soul would not fade into nothingness, causing it to undergo reincarnations, over and over again.
Because she could not bear to be forgotten.
"Shuang'er... ."
She could no longer smile, but her eyelashes slightly trembled at the way he was addressing her.
No more 'Master'.
Just 'Shuang'er'.
When one steadfastly stood in front of the door that separated the living and the dead, even the most abominable memories that one had previously buried so deep, would somehow claw their way back into existence.
That day, the sky was as hazy as today. That day, she had loftily said,
"The name is Meng Shuang(1). From now on, I will be your Master. From now on, you are called Shi Yan(2)."
In fact, would he ever come to know that her name, Meng Shuang, was not even her real name? And that his name, Shi Yan, was actually a manifestation of her innermost selfish conscience, corroded with guilt? Because despite what he had wished for back then, she would not let him go.
[十年生死两茫茫，不思量，自难忘。 "Ten years of separation, life and death caused us sunder."]
Would he ever know that ten years was a mere brief winter, a quiver of butterfly's wings, just a short cicada's life, compared to their actual separation?
[千里孤坟，无处话凄凉。"Despite not trying to remember, forgetting is hard."]
Would he ever know, that she was the one who had caused him to forget?
Would he ever know, that now she, in turn, wanted to forget him because of that?
Now, after all those years... . Now, she finally understood just a little bit of what he might have felt.
That everything, had just become too tiring.
Even loving someone, pining for someone, had become too painful.
Nevertheless, she still remembered, despite wanting to forget. The oath she had made to him those years ago, when he was not yet a 'promise', when she was not yet just a coward only daring to dream during the cold winter.
Her name was but a reminder for her to settle her debt; his name was but a reminder for her to keep her oath, despite how he had forgotten about it.
She just hoped, even this impending death – death that would just be a temporary sleep – would be one that'd be long enough, to grant the both of them the necessary courage.
Courage to let each other go.
Her lips quivered slightly, bringing a flicker of hope to manifest in his dark eyes. He pulled her closer, bringing his ears closer to her snow-white lips. She did not know if he would be able to hear, but she hoped he did,
"You are not him."
Such were the four words that she always told him times and again, until the both of them reached this very day.
A tiny tear drop escaped the corner of her eyes. She would never let him know what she had always kept in her heart. Just like the forgotten oath drowned by his death that had long passed, she hoped he would never know.
"You are not him. You are him. It's always him. It's always you."
Because she would never want him to live as she had been living. Bound by a promise that would never be fulfilled. She had reached her resolution. Only in front of death's door did she finally gain the courage to release him.
But a human is always a creature of greed. Before she closed her eyes and opened that heavy door – the door of death that was now as light as feather, she wistfully wished, she prayed.
That he would no longer hate her, hate what she had become, hate what she had made him be.
As her soul finally let go of the last string of reluctance, she held her head high and pushed the door open. She stepped inside, towards the abyss of darkness that she welcomed as heartily as the warmest of sunrises. She wanted to sever the chain of promise that had shackled her for five hundred years.
As the door slowly closed behind her, she heard a whisper, light as breeze.
For anyone else, it might have been just a passing hallucination, a dream in a cold winter, just like her.
However, she would know. Billions of people's voices, ten billion of other creatures' noise, she would know. It was his voice, his voice, from the present, from seven hundred years ago.
"When you wake, you will see me, Ye Jing(3)." A whisper like the gentlest of breeze.
Five hundred years ago, he had once told her, that he liked her the most. Because he liked the stillness of the night.
That was her name. If he had not suddenly mentioned it, she would not even recall it.
"Ah, he remembered... ."
A drop of emotion filled the coldness of winter.
She hated that name though. Exactly during the stillness of the night, he chose to leave her.
Thus, five hundred years ago, she had ruthlessly dispersed his soul towards the seven corners of the world. She did not care back then, that he might hate her for it. Because hate would still be much better than nothing. It would still be much better than being forgotten.
What good would it be for him to say that he liked her the most, if he was going to just scatter his soul away. If that were to happen, if she had not done what she did, she'd never have been able to see him again. She would not even have the pleasure to receive his hate.
At least, to hate was to feel.
After all, she had always been a greedy person. Despite how she had told herself to let go, that as soon as she could fulfill the forgotten pledge, she would free herself from this shackle.
She now understood, perhaps not fully, but she could understand a little.
To feel for someone, to love someone too deeply, to want someone too much... was exhausting.
She wanted to fade into nothing, to not hear his voice in every sound the world made, to not expect to see his familiar smile in every mortal she encountered. She was exhausted. Loving him was too exhausting.
"Shi Yan... . Was loving me exhausting for you too?"
Nevertheless, he remembered.
"Why... why do you remember? Is it not too late now?"
"I just want to rest now. I don't even want to appear in your most discreet dreams. No longer. No longer... ."
"Shi Yan... . I am sorry."
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The young woman bit her moist lips as she observed the pair of embracing couple. The woman with complexion as pale as her flowing silver hair – Meng Shuang – was now unmoving.
The young woman's name was Xue Rong(4).
Xue Rong's long silky hair framed her smooth heart-shaped face perfectly. She was the succeeding disciple of Flaming Cauldron Sect, a direct heir to Saint Huo. Amongst the seven continents in the vast world, amongst mortals and cultivators, novices and Saints, she was known to be one of the most beautiful women currently living. Kings and Emperors governing normal mortals coveted her, various famous Sect Leaders wanted to be her Dao partners.
Saint Meng was also considered an otherworldly beautiful woman. Perhaps, the Emperors and Kings that had previously pledged their dedication and riches towards Xue Rong would forget Xue Rong's existence the moment they lay eyes on Saint Meng.
However, Saint Huo once mentioned that Saint Meng was at least a couple of hundred years older than himself. Why would Xue Rong put an old woman's existence as a threat? Despite how beautiful the silver haired Saint might look, Xue Rong believed Meng Shuang was merely an old cow with tough meat. Combined with the Saint's tendency to seclude herself in her self-made Sect that only comprised of one teacher and one disciple, hardly anyone could vouch for her legendary beauty.
There was only one person that Xue Rong wanted, such that she did not care for any other man. It was also the reason why she hated Meng Shuang to the core. Because even after the old woman's death, the person that Xue Rong had expended the utmost effort to seek attention from, was still unflinchingly holding onto a mere corpse.
But now that Saint Meng Shuang was no longer living, she did not believe she could not slowly change Shi Yan's heart.
If Meng Shuang trapped Shi Yan in a perpetual dream filled with cold frost, Xue Rong would melt that coldness away and liberate Shi Yan. Then the both of them could be Dao partners that would be envied by all creatures on the seven continents. Although Shi Yan was almost a century younger than herself, cultivators had almost limitless lifespan. Saint Huo was living proof, so were countless other Sect Leaders and powerful cultivators.
Only an unforeseen circumstance could cut short a strong cultivator's life. Saint Meng would normally be invincible, but Xue Rong possessed a treasure that she had obtained from Saint Huo.
Xue Rong lightly smiled. Gently combing her hair with her fingers, she stepped closer towards the still silent Shi Yan.
She frowned. Shi Yan was not actually silent. He was whispering strings of sentences in a low voice.
[Ten years, life and death caused us sunder.]
[Despite not trying to remember, forgetting is hard.]
[Even if we met, you wouldn't know me,]
[Dust on my face, Hair like frost.]
[In a dream last night, suddenly I was home.]
[By the pavilion's window, you were combing your hair and getting dressed up.]
[You turned and looked, no word spoken,]
[Only lines of tears coursing down.]
(A/N: Excerpts of poem titled 'Song of the River City' (江城子), composed by Su Shi. )
"Ten years... . Shuang'er, Ye Jing, we have pledged. I have pledged. It's not you who have sinned. It's me."
"Ten years, life and death caused us sunder. Ye Jing, the poet could not even begin to imagine the amount of time we have separated."
Xue Rong's complexion turned ashen for a split second, then she put on her usual amiable smile and put her hand on Shi Yan's shoulder. The man stiffened.
"Shi Yan, let Saint Meng rest. Let us build her a grave for her, alright? She would not want you to grieve too hard... ."
Before she could finish her gentle coaxing, Xue Rong's eyes flashed with vigilance. She immediately gathered her true essence to solidify the qi circulating in her body, focusing all of her defensive power to protect her chest. Nonetheless, the impact of Shi Yan's palm still sent her staggering backwards. Because she did not have sufficient time to protect herself thoroughly, his palm strike caused her lower ribs to fracture, causing her to spit a mouthful of blood.
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Notes:
(1) 梦霜 . The characters denote 'Meng – Dream' and 'Shuang – Frost'
(2)誓言 – Shi Yan – 'Promise/Pledge'.
(3)夜靜 – Ye Jing. I merely flipped the characters over. 'Jing Ye means Quiet Night')
(4)雪 Xue – 'snow'; 融 Rong – 'melt/thaw')